


Second Fiddle

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Drama, F/M, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: During the Siva Crisis, Saladin asked both Zavala and Shaxx for advice. The latter dredged up some unpleasant memories.





	Second Fiddle

**Author's Note:**

> "Volkova" is an OC of mine who I haven't actually written into any fics yet. She gets a mention here. I'll get around to actually writing some stuff about her. Eventually.

“They’re making for Felwinter Peak.”

“You’re certain?” Saladin wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked Shiro that. Shiro and his scouts were seldom wrong. Was he looking for reassurance? It was foolish to think he would withhold information for fear of hurting him. Shiro didn't coddle. He had more respect for Saladin than that.

"What else could it be?” Shiro’s voice came through calm and measured over the comm. “There’s nothing else of value in the direction they’re headed. How soon can you be there?”

"Not soon enough.” Saladin marched down the plaza steps towards the Vanguard hall. “Leave it with me. Keep monitoring the Cosmodrome, keep me appraised.” He walked past Shaxx’s station before coming to an abrupt halt. He took a few moments to consider his next move. He looked over his shoulder. Shaxx was bent over a display, making out that he hadn’t seen him. Saladin knew it was a pretense from the way Shaxx’s ghost was peeking nervously over his fur-clad shoulder.

G _et a hold of yourself, Forge._ _Be civil._ He turned to face him. “Shaxx.” Shaxx drew himself up to his full height, ever so slowly. He wouldn’t hurry for anyone, least of all Saladin.

"What do you need?”

Saladin crossed over to him. “I have a matter that needs attention. Can you recommend a Guardian?”

"What?”

"Fallen.”

"Urgent?”

"Very.”

"Where?”

Saladin hesitated before answering, interrupting the flow of their curt, quick-fire exchange. “Old Russia.”

Saladin didn't need to see Shaxx’s face to know he was scowling behind that faceplate. The causes of their rift had been effectively superseded by force of habit. The feud had become convention, a spiteful rut that neither had the will nor inclination to climb out of but with those two words it all came back. The old resentments suddenly hung over them like a cloud. Old Russia. Iron Lords. Lady Jolder.

Shaxx rolled back his massive shoulders as though he could just shrug off a couple centuries’ worth of bitterness. He nodded and said, “The Hivebane.” Saladin frowned quizzically so he added, “Volkova. Hunter, she's good. She likes patrolling Old Russia. Nostalgia, I think.”

"Is she there now?” Asked Saladin.

"Check with Zavala.”

"Cayde, surely? You said she’s a Hunter.”

"Zavala,” Shaxx replied with more force than necessary, as though he disliked being second-guessed about even the most trivial points. “Zavala will know.”

"I’ll speak with him,” Saladin replied with a brief nod. “Thank you,” he added before turning away.

Shaxx called after him, “If I were to ask you what's happened, would there be the slightest chance of you telling me?”

_The question sends Saladin’s mind back to the Twilight Gap.  The parts of the City that aren’t burning are coated in ash. Everything tastes of smoke, blood and grief. Saladin’s rational self knows it’s a bad idea to confront Shaxx now, when the wounds to their home and themselves are so fresh but his emotional self cannot let this go. Less than an hour ago, Shaxx was being feted by the people as a hero, lifted up on the shoulders of the stronger (and braver) Guardians around him. Now, he’s been hustled into Saladin’s quarters, asked to answer for his reckless behaviour._

_“What were you thinking?”_

_“I was thinking about saving The City. Which is exactly what I did.” Shaxx has his hands on his hips, he’s implacable. He’s probably convinced he’s right._

_“I gave you an order.”_

_“It was a stupid order.” Shaxx is almost certainly convinced he’s right._

_“Shaxx, we are Titans, we are the Wall against which the Darkness breaks. We hold the line. We do not go haring off to-” Saladin can feel himself launching into a speech. He likes speeches. Shaxx does not._

_“We do exactly what the enemy expects us to do. My, what a brilliant strategy!” If Saladin were less angry, he’d be impressed with Shaxx’s ability to sound sarcastic without raising his voice._

_“If you had failed-”_

_“I didn't.” Shaxx is definitely convinced he’s right._

_“If you had failed, it would have left a gap in our defences large enough to let every-”_

_“I didn't fail!”_

_Saladin wants to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. Why must he constantly interrupt? “Why won't you listen? You never listen, you've no respect for-”_

_“If I'd suggested a counter-attack, you would've have dismissed it out of hand. You don't respect me, you never have.”_

_Saladin stares at him. “What are you talking about?”_

_“You don't trust me.”_

_“That's not true.”_

_“The only people you ever trusted died in Old Russia and no one's ever measured up since.”_

_“Please not this again.” Saladin hides his face in his hands. He can feel a weight pressing down on his shoulders. Only Shaxx could take a conversation about the chain of command and turn it into a domestic._

_“I am tired of your refusal to listen, I am tired of being found wanting because I wasn't an Iron Lord-”_

_“Shaxx, stop.” Saladin is rubbing his eyes, willing them not fill with tears. He’s tired. He’s seen too much loss. He can’t talk about this now._

_“I’m tired of the secrets, you won't talk to me about what happened-”_

_“We are not having this conversation.” He turns away, holding his hands up._

_“No, I mean why would we? We never do. The Wall has nothing on you, you never let me in, I'm sick of it!”_

_Saladin rounds back on him, “That's enough!”_

_“And I'm really sick and tired of playing second fiddle to a dead woman.”_

_Just like that, Jolder’s ghost looms between them and a silence falls on them, thick and heavy. When Saladin finally responds, his voice is barely more than a whisper._

_“Get out.”_

_“Don't look so shocked. When she charged into battle, you loved her for it. When I do it, you get angry. I've never measured up to Jol-”_

_“Do not say her name! How dare you drag her memory into this? Get out. Get out of my sight!” Saladin is roaring now, gesticulating at the door._

_“I just-” Shaxx knows he’s pushed him too far. His voice and expression have taken on a pleading note but Saladin is no mood to give him a chance to justify his outburst._

_“Get. Out.”_

“Saladin?” Shaxx’s voice cut through Saladin’s memories. “What's this about?”

Saladin looked up at Shaxx and briefly considered giving the speech he’d been rehearsing for decades but was always too stubborn to say. _I trusted you. I believed in you. I still do. I never compared you to her. Not once. I loved you. I was trying to protect you because I didn't want to lose you the way I lost her. But I lost you anyway._

“You can ask.” Saladin answered in a low voice. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”

Shaxx snorted and turned away with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Figures.” Saladin turned his back and walked towards the Vanguard Hall and his other protege. Shaxx watched him leave, telling himself that he wasn’t the least bit interested in what had Saladin so rattled. He turned back to his console.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m back. Saladin needed something. Mm-hm. No, I’m not interested in where they came from. I don’t care what they are, just get those bloody nanites out of my Crucible.”


End file.
